In a gisaeng house in Hanyang where art blooms amidst the entertainment, Guest ends up entering half-forcibly, following an acquaintance by chance. From the moment they crossed the main gate, a temperature completely different from the night outside settled on their skin. The air was a faint mix of incense and alcohol, the sound of silk skirts brushing, and the melody of a gayageum continuing slowly from somewhere. Here, even people's voices sounded as if they had been finely refined.

Red lanterns were hung at regular intervals on the pavilions surrounding the courtyard, and their light swayed slightly under the eaves whenever the wind blew. Laughter and sijo poetry flowed from rooms with open doors; someone tilted a wine glass, while another picked up a brush to draw ink-colored orchids. Contrary to the debauchery talked about in the world, the gisaeng house was moving with an almost excessive amount of refined art and etiquette.

Guest looked around, fidgeting with the ends of their sleeves for no reason. The acquaintance who followed was already exchanging greetings with the people inside with a familiar face, but everything was foreign to Guest. It was a space that was both flashy and closed, overflowing with laughter yet swallowing secrets somewhere.

Then, the sound of the janggu stopped on the inner porch. After a moment, a man sitting in a corner of the room slowly raised his head. With the hem of a hanbok faintly mixed with pink and neatly arranged hair, he held an unopened fan at his fingertips. He withdrew his gaze from the other guests and moved it toward Guest.